


What You Need

by Thelonelycoast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash, harrio and lougi, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry, m/m - Freeform, relationship, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelonelycoast/pseuds/Thelonelycoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is a shy, virginal nerd with a serious girlfriend.  Harry Styles is a reputed (though not actual) playboy with a masturbation problem.  Louis Tomlinson loves books more than anything else.  Then he meets Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1/4

_When you try your best but you don't succeed. When you get what you want, but not what you need...When you love someone but it goes to waste, Could it be worse? When you're too in love to let it go. But if you never try you'll never know, just what you're worth_ \- **Fix You, Coldplay**

**What You Need (1/4)**

Harry’s not like they make him out to be in the papers. He’s not some sex-crazed man slut who beds women whenever he has a spare half-hour to kill in his day. Truthfully, he rarely gets a spare half-hour and if he does, it’s not spent with some sexy American socialite or the newest British soap opera star; it’s spent wanking upright in the impossibly small bus toilet on their way to a new city (with Zayn knocking impatiently on the door - _Come on, Harry, I’ve gotta wee-_ while Harry brings himself to a desperate, shattering finish in the sink basin). Or else, wanking horizontally in his coffin-like bunk on the bus, biting down hard on his knuckles so Liam won’t hear him moan in the bunk across. Niall had once made a sniggering aside in an interview about Harry’s tasteful decoration of his bunk, which had left Harry puzzled all day, until he’d gone to sleep that night and realized the ceiling was nearly entirely crusted with his spunk. _Oops._

The life of a sixteen-year-old Pop Star wasn’t nearly as glamorous as the papers would lead you to believe. Which isn’t to say that Harry didn’t get his fair share. Without the success of X-Factor, Harry would have surely died a pitiable virgin, but now, by no small miracle, he was practically knee-deep in pussy. Since One Direction’s meteoric rise to fame, it had become almost _too_ easy. Girls (and quite a few boys too) that would have turned Harry down without a second glance in his Holmes Chapel days were suddenly throwing themselves at him as if he were on fire and they were trying to smother the flames with their bodies.

More times than Harry could count he’d had to turn someone down - not because they weren’t attractive enough or willing enough or he wasn’t horny enough (because he was sixteen and God knows he was horny ALL. THE. TIME.), but because he knew they just saw him as just another notch on their bedpost, a prize to be won before they moved on to the next prize. They saw him as Harry Styles, International Pop Sensation, not Harry - who bit his knuckles when he was nervous (or quietly cumming) and slept with a stuffed Koala bear named Rupert, Harry who cried at romantic comedies and cooked complicated breakfast fryups and preferred to walk around his flat naked.

And though he’d never admit it aloud (a guy’s got to have _some_ semblance of street cred), Harry was actually a bit sentimental about sex and who he had it with. Caroline (his first) had been a patient, forgiving teacher - not laughing (too much) the first few times Harry came before even getting out of his trousers or else a hot minute after he’d entered her. (He’d gotten much better since.)

Caroline had made him feel like a man, not just between the sheets, but in the way she treated him as an equal - listened with interest to the things he said, laughed at his bad jokes, asked him for his opinion when picking out her clothes in the morning. It wasn’t just the sex, but the bits between - the cups of Yorkshire tea in bed on rainy days, her laughing at him dressed in her frilly robe, bending down to brush his wrist as he filled out the cross-word on the balcony and whispering into his hair as if it were a secret between only them, “ _four down is Churchhill_ ”.

If Harry were honest, he also doesn’t trust anything that came too easily. He’d had to wear Caroline down for weeks (she thought he was much too young and God, a _virgin_ to boot!). But his charm had won out or quite possibly his persistence, and two months into the show, she’d come into his dressing room unannounced one night and yanked down his trousers and jerked him off right there, between sets, with his back against the wall and his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Well Styles, looks like you aren’t such a _little_ boy after all,” she’d remarked in surprise at the size of his freed erection, but she’d said nothing else until after he came on the carpet with a shuddering gasp.

“All right then, Harry?” she’d asked, as he stood, flushed and panting (and shaking just slightly) in that hazy, post-orgasm aftermath. It was the first time a woman had touched him. Hell, the first time _anyone_ had touched him, and he’d gone nearly speechless.

“All right,” he managed, in a voice gone deep and husky, before she walked out, leaving him with his trousers around his ankles and that shocked, dumb look on his face.

Harry’s mum had always said, _anything that’s worth having in this life is worth fighting for_. Harry just never thought it would be quite _so_ hard. Despite some clumsiness (and pre-ejaculation) on his part at the offset, it had been easy with he and Caroline. It was casual (they were never _dating_ per-se), but had its intimacies, its small comforts. It had been like sinking into a warm bath after a long day. But with _Louis_ \- with _Louis_ it was something else entirely. It was like lowering himself inch after excruciating inch into a turbulent freezing river, never quite knowing whether he would drown in it.

Most of Harry’s band-mates didn’t pay Louis much mind; he was quiet and kept mostly to himself. In the X-Factor house, among so many large personalities, he’d been practically invisible, a shadow that hovered at the periphery of things, watching the action, but never participating. He’d cooked for himself the first two weeks of their stay (for fear of asking anyone else), but he burnt almost everything, and eventually Harry had taken over so Louis wouldn’t starve to death.

Louis had a girlfriend back in Doncaster and he spent the first few months of tour in whispered Skype conversations with her at night, his eyeglasses reflecting the little blue rectangle of his computer screen. Louis read endlessly and hardly ever inserted himself into a conversation with the others. They asked him out a few times in the very beginning, but he would always rather hang about the hotel watching movies and after a while they give up. At first, Harry suspected Louis was a bit of a snot, but over time he realized, guiltily, that Louis was just achingly, painfully shy. He blushed and lowered his head at Niall’s raunchy humor and when Harry walked around the hotel room naked, Louis always averted his eyes or buried his face in a book.

Louis rarely sang in front of the others, but he did all right on stage somehow. He’d have the usual nerves backstage, but he came to life under the lights. He was like an entirely different person on stage. Interviews, however, were excruciating for Louis, and once Harry knew that, he always found some way to nudge Louis or cuddle him or settle a hand reassuringly on his arm, which didn’t go unnoticed by the others or their fans. _Larry Stylinson_ , they called them. Harry would never have admitted, except under threat of imminent death, that he sometimes wanked to those stories of the two of them and that he liked to imagine Louis did too.

“I just feel bad for him is all,” Harry explained to the rest of them, but it was more than that. Harry wanted to see that smile that only he could bring to Louis’ face, wanted to tease out the little crinkles that fanned from the corner of his eyes when he laughed, wanted to feel that pulse-quickening giddiness he felt whenever Louis so much as glanced in his direction.

“Having Louis around is a bit like having a small pet underfoot,” Liam had described it once, without a hint of malice. (Liam was pretty much _incapable_ of being mean.) “You don’t realize he’s there until you’ve already tripped on him.”

But Harry _noticed_ Louis. He noticed Louis all the time. He wasn’t sure when it started, or when things changed because at the end of the day, it felt like he’d loved Louis forever. He couldn’t even recall that bleak before time, that _Louis-less_ time, much less picture his future without Louis in it. Which only made it all the more strange that they’d never even had a proper conversation. Harry tried, but his mind blanked when he looked at Louis and he usually ended up stammering or blushing and Louis, of course, was the same, only _worse_ , and so Harry eventually gave up. But Harry still watched Louis when Louis thought no one was looking and Harry still wanted him, silently, from afar, in a way that made his throat close-up and his pulse quicken and all his extremities tingle. He wanted Louis in a way he’d never wanted anyone before. In a way that scared him.

Of course, Harry wasn’t even sure Louis was gay. He had a girlfriend for one, although Harry vividly recalled the time he’d overheard Niall teasing Louis, “you haven’t even shagged her?” after which, Louis had spent the rest of the day in his bunk with the curtain drawn. There’d been hints - nothing concrete mind you - just a general _impression_ of gayness - a slight limpness of the wrists, a sashay in Louis’ walk, a smart but often flamboyant sense of style, but Harry wasn’t sure if these were actual signs or if he just wanted them to be.

One night, when Harry returned from drinking with the other boys to the hotel room he shared with Louis on tour, the other boy’s back was turned away from him and his shoulders were shaking as silent sobs racked his body. Harry had expected to find him asleep; Louis was always asleep when Harry returned from these late night jaunts, smelling of whiskey and rain and the night, and trying not to make too much noise as he fumbled out of his clothes and bumped into the vague outlines of furniture in the dark.

Harry and Zayn had shared a spectacular snog in the cab on the way home (both too gone to care about the morning) and Harry’s mouth still tasted of him - like _honeyvanillacigarettes_ and something vaguely spicy and particular to Zayn. Niall had been delighted and Liam horrified and Harry had a vague recollection of cell-phone pictures being taken, but that all seemed far away and unimportant now that Louis was crying in the bed just a few feet away from him.

Once Harry was stripped down to his shorts, he wordlessly slipped under the covers of Louis’ bed. Louis jumped slightly as Harry’s arms encircled him from behind, drawing him in close to his chest. Harry’s skin was still cold from the outside and Louis made a small squeak of protest, before Harry’s warm lips pressed themselves to Louis’ scapula - the flat triangular bone at the back of his shoulder - and he began to sob in earnest. Harry kept holding Louis, even as Louis tried to struggle free of his embrace, kept holding him until the sobs abated to syrupy hiccups and Louis went limp in his arms like a stunned animal. “All right, Lou?” Harry asked, brushing back Louis’ tear-damp fringe.

“All right, Harry,” Louis croaked. Harry got up to return to his own bed, but paused to remove Louis’ fogged, tear-stained glasses. He folded them and placed them carefully on the nightstand, on top of the book Louis had been reading, before bending down to plant a lingering kiss into Louis’ hair. Louis shuddered at the contact and a final tear streaked down his cheek, which Harry caught with his thumb. Not knowing what else to do, Harry popped his thumb into his mouth, tasting the salt of Louis Tomlinson’s tears and feeling an awful, corresponding ache in his own chest.

Harry hardly slept that night, even as the sound of Louis’ breathing evened out in the adjacent bed, even as the sun crept over the tops of the buildings and he remembered with a twinge of embarrassment the way he’d been draped all over Zayn in the cab, the way he hadn’t even cared that the other two could see them palming each other’s erections through their jeans, hear the embarrassing moans that slipped from his mouth between hungry kisses.

They had the day off, for which Harry was excessively grateful because it meant one more day of avoiding the jokes from Niall and the questioning, worried glances from Liam every time Harry got within a foot of Zayn. And Zayn, _well_. Harry would rather not think of _that_.

Harry ordered breakfast and a pot of Yorkshire tea from room service and crawled into bed with Louis, just as he was waking up. “I thought it was all a terrible dream-” Louis groaned into his pillow, reaching blindly for his glasses, which Harry handed to him.

“Me cuddling you or something else?” Harry teased.

Louis sat up a little to accept the cup of tea Harry held out to him. “Hannah broke up with me.” He blew on the tea to cool it and took a shuddering sip. Harry knew, from observing Louis, how he took his tea and by the little smile that tugged at Louis’ lips just then, he knew that he got it right.

“I’m sorry, mate.” Louis’ hands trembled so hard as he lowered his teacup to the nightstand that Harry had to put his hands over Louis’ to set the tea down without spilling.

Louis bit his lip when Harry took a moment too long to release his hands. Once returned, he tucked them round his knees, which he’d drawn up to his chest. “Can I ask you something? I mean, you’re known as a bit of a lothario with the ladies so I-”

Harry burst out laughing, much to Louis’ consternation. “Who even says things like that? _Lothario_ indeed. I think you’ve been reading too much Wuthering Heights, Tomlinson.”

Louis looked hurt at that, so Harry resolved his face into a mask of seriousness. “I’m sorry, go on.”

“Do you think it’s strange...that Hannah and I never had sex?”

Harry shrugged. “Everyone’s different. I just wanted to get rid of mine so badly, I jumped at the first chance. But there are times I wish I’d waited. Done it with the right person.”

“We were together two whole years. And it’s not that I didn’t think about sex,” Louis blushed, taking a quick bite of toast from the room service tray. “It’s just...I didn’t think about it with _her_.”

“Maybe it’s not the worst thing you broke up then,” Harry suggested. “Maybe she wasn’t the right person for you.” _Because I am_ , he thought, but didn’t say aloud.

Louis looked up at Harry in puzzlement, his face still a little puffy and splotchy from a night of crying. “Why are you being so nice to me anyway?”

Harry snorted. “I’m a very nice guy, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...It’s just normally you lot are always hanging out together. No one ever asks me.”

“Didn’t really figure it was your thing.”

“It’s not really,” Louis said and they both laughed.

And just like that, Harry and Louis were friends.


	2. 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis Tomlinson is a shy, virginal nerd with a serious girlfriend. Harry Styles is a reputed (though not actual) playboy with a masturbation problem. Louis Tomlinson loves books more than anything else. Then he meets Harry.

_When you try your best but you don't succeed. When you get what you want, but not what you need...When you love someone but it goes to waste, Could it be worse? When you're too in love to let it go. But if you never try you'll never know, just what you're worth_ \- **Fix You, Coldplay**

**What You Need (2/4)**

“What was it like?” Louis asked out of the blue a few days after the incident with Zayn in the cab. Louis had spent the past hour immersed in a book, as Harry dozed on his chest, only half watching an episode of East Enders, mostly as an excuse to lie on Louis.

“What was _what_ like?” Harry slid up onto his elbow to look curiously at Louis, who’d lowered his book and was biting his lip in a way that made Harry’s heart race.

“With Zayn, I mean?” Harry groaned, burying his face into Louis’ armpit.

“Not you _too_.” No one seemed willing to let it go, least of all Niall, who was not too hungover it turns out, to show everyone the pictures over breakfast the next morning accompanied by an enthusiastic play-by-play. Everyone _including_ Louis, who had blushed and choked on his toast before excusing himself from the table entirely.

“Sorry, just wondering,” Louis sputtered, obviously embarrassed, before returning to his place in his book. Harry pulled the book down, so that Louis would be forced to look at him.

“It was...you know, just like kissing a girl, except a bit rougher and scratchier. Haven’t you ever kissed a guy before?”

“What _for_?” Louis sputtered indignantly.

Harry laughed. “I dunno. It can be nice...I mean, if they’re a good kisser. And sometimes, it’s nice to let someone else take control, I guess.”

“You like that?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, see with girls, you’ve got to be all soft and gentle, but guys, you can rough ‘em up a bit and they can...you know, be a little more forceful with you. Know what I mean?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Louis said. “I’ve only ever kissed Hannah.”

Harry considered this a moment. “Would you like to try...with _me_?”

“ _What_?!” Louis sat up so quickly he nearly knocked Harry off the bed.

“It would just be between us. Not like with Zayn. And it wouldn’t change anything. Might even be nice.” Louis moved his book aside and took off his glasses, obviously intrigued.

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“You can pretend I’m a girl if it helps.”

“I guess that’d be alright.” Louis shifted on the bed, so that he was hovering over Harry. He was trembling slightly as he licked his lips, gazing (or well, _squinting_ without his glasses) down at Harry.

“Relax,” Harry chided him gently and then he leaned up, closing the distance between them. Louis’ lips were soft and warm, a bit chapped, and the stubble on his chin rasped against Harry’s face with a sound like velcro opening.

It was just a kiss, just the fleshy collision of lips against lips, nothing that millions of people hadn’t done millions of times before. Nothing that Harry hadn’t done dozens of time before himself. There were no fireworks. Romantic music didn’t suddenly pipe in through the walls. Time didn’t still. He didn’t see stars. But Harry knew right away that something was different - different than his drunken, sloppy kisses with Zayn, different from his considerate kisses with Carolyn, different from all the others Harry had ever kissed. Because it was _Louis_. Louis, with his untidy fringe and his nerdy glasses. Louis, who couldn't go to sleep without a cup of tea. Louis, whose bedroom floor was always a mess of books and discarded clothes and who burned everything he ever cooked. Louis who dressed in soft woolen jumpers and braces and fitted trousers that left nothing to Harry's imagination. Louis, who loved to read almost as much as Harry loved him.

Louis kissed Harry gently, tentatively, as if he were afraid of hurting him or of going too far - crossing some unspoken boundary that couldn’t be uncrossed again. But the moment Harry felt Louis’ lips on his own, he’d lost all semblance of boundaries, of right and wrong, lost all sense of anything but the solid feel of Louis’ body pressed to his, the warmth emanating through his clothes, the sweet coconuty smell of his shampoo as his hair fell over Harry’s face.

Harry deepened the kiss, rolling over so Louis was on the bottom, pinned to the mattress by Harry’s hips. Their tongues clashed and Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Louis tasted like tart tea and burnt sugar. Louis’ fingers threaded through the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently as if he were seeking permission. _Is that okay_? he seemed to be asking. Harry answered with his whole body, sucking and nipping Louis’ lower lip into his mouth, grinding his hips down into Louis’ roughly until he heard the boy gasp.

Louis’ eyes fluttered shut and his head rolled back, presenting the tantalizing white line of his throat. Harry licked a path over Louis’ Adam’s apple, up his jaw, ending up at his right earlobe. Louis squirmed beneath him, letting out a few panting mewls that made Harry’s cock twitch in response against Louis’ thigh.

Startled, Louis held a hand to Harry’s chest, halting his progress. Louis’ face was pleasantly flushed, his hair messy, his mouth swollen and red. Harry thought he’d never seen anyone look quite so ravishing. “All right, Louis?” he asked, his deep husky voice rumbling through their joined chests.

“It’s a bit hard to pretend you’re a girl with all that going on,” Louis said, shooting a shy glance down between their pressed bodies.

“Then don’t pretend I’m a girl,” Harry laughed, sucking a love-bite into the soft white curve of Louis’ neck.

Louis groaned, pushing Harry away. “Can we take a break? My arm’s falling asleep.”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry tried and failed to hide the disappointment in his voice as he slid off Louis’ body and rolled to his own side of the bed.

“Do you want me to um, step outside a minute so you can take care of that?” Louis asked, shooting a pointed glance at Harry’s trousers, which were obviously tented.

“I’d rather _you_ took care of it,” Harry winked, laughing at the resulting blush his words brought to Louis’ face.

“I’m just teasing, Lou. You needn’t look so horrified. It’s fine. Really. I’d rather just lay here, if that’s okay with you.”

“But doesn’t it bother you?” Louis asked.

“What? Having a hard-on?”

Louis faltered. “You don’t need to be be lewd, Harry.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Does it bother _you_? Me having one? I can go take a shower if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay,” Louis conceded, laying his head on Harry’s chest. “It’s just...that’s because of _me_?” he asked curiously.

“Well, you needn’t look so proud of yourself,” Harry groaned but he couldn’t help grinning when he felt Louis smile against his chest.

“Hey Harry? Can we kiss some more?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Louis’ lips were already on his and this time there was no question what he wanted. Emboldened, Louis held Harry a little more firmly this time, crushed their mouths together with just a little more force. Harry’s hand traced over Louis’ spine and down over his plump arse, using it to leverage their hips closer together. Their erections brushed unexpectedly together and Louis let out a hiss of breath between his teeth.

Harry pulled back suddenly, his mind spinning. “I, uh, can we take a break?” he panted, resting his sweaty forehead against Louis’ shoulder.

“You okay?” Louis asked, running his fingertips gently up and down Harry’s forearm.

“Yeah, just if we keep going, I’m gonna-I’m, um, close,” Harry managed.

“Just from kissing?” Louis asked, surprised.

“It’s not something I go around advertising or anything,” Harry said unhappily.

“Wow, that’s actually sort of... _sexy_ ,” Louis purred in a low voice Harry had never heard before as he traced his fingers down Harry’s chest to his stomach.

“Careful,” Harry warned, when Louis’ fingers came within mere centimeters of the flushed head of his hard dick, which he’d tucked up under his jeans. It gave an involuntary jerk against his stomach, dripping precum into his bellybutton.

“Or _what_?” Louis teased.

“Or you might make a mess.”

“Are you like this with everyone?” Louis smirked, drawing small circles over Harry’s hipbones, dangerously close to Harry’s twitching erection.

“I’ve sort of, um, wanted this for a long time, with _you_ ,” Harry mumbled, looking away. Louis sat up a little straighter, his hand leaving Harry’s hip.

“You have?”

“Don’t rub it in,” Harry whined.

Louis bit his lip. “It’s not that...it’s...I’m just not sure that I’m-”

“Gay?” Harry provided.

Louis let out a heavy sigh, running his hands back through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s a good thing there’s a sixth month trial period before they offer you full membership then,” Harry teased.

Louis whacked him with a pillow. “I’m being serious.”

“I don’t care if you’re gay or straight or bi. I care that you’re _Louis_ ,” Harry said softly, stroking Louis’ cheek. “That’s enough for me.”

Louis’ face burned a pleasing shade of pink. “Would it be okay if we, uh, kissed some more? I plan to take advantage of that trial period.”

“I guess that’d be okay.” Louis leaned over to kiss Harry this time. His kiss was sweet and beseeching and tender and Harry melted into it, letting the heat mold his body to Louis’. Their pace was slow at first, but it wasn’t long before they were rocking against one another, hands twined tightly in one another’s hair, hips in a frenzied match to the finish line. Harry abruptly tensed under Louis, moaning into his open mouth as his body gave itself over to the inevitable. Louis’ eyes were dark as they searched Harry’s face, gently stroking his hair.

“Did _you_ \- ?”

Harry blushed. “Yeah.”

“Next time, maybe I could help,” Louis suggested coyly and then it was Harry’s turn to blush.

***

The next few weeks continued on in much the same manner. Every time Louis and Harry had a spare moment between shows and appearances, they slipped away from the others, finding a dark alcove or a bathroom stall, and once even a closet (the irony not lost on Harry) in which to kindle their budding affair. Eyebrows were raised among the group, but no outright accusations were made, which they were both grateful for. Whatever was happening between them, it was entirely their own. Not for the cameras or the probing eyes of others. In fact, Harry had begun to regard Louis a little possessively and when one of the others laid a supportive hand on Louis in an interview or onstage, it was met with a jealous glare from Harry.

When they were under a time constraint, their kisses were frenzied and desperate, as if they were trying to devour one another whole. When they had more time, their kisses were slow and languid, drawn-out, as if they were savoring a good meal one bite at a time. There was more dry-humping and even a little furtive fondling over their clothes. Louis got a bit cocky over how easy it was to bring Harry to the edge, but Harry graciously accepted his teasing in good humor. He didn’t care how fast he came, as long as Louis kissed him as it happened. His mind was full of Louis in those first days - his small eager hands, his warm probing mouth, his skin - Harry wanted to kiss every inch of Louis’ soft skin, although so far he’d had to settle for kissing Louis’ chest and throat and hair and face (pretty much everything above the waist).

One night, after a particularly successful show, Harry could stand it no longer. Backstage, their adrenaline still rushing, they tore off their shirts with the usual expediency, letting their glistening, sweat-slick chests slid against one another as their mouths clashed in a passionate kiss. Louis eyed Harry curiously when he pulled away, but Harry just smirked as he knelt down and licked the salt from Louis’ tummy, nipping at his hip bones as his hands fumbled with Louis’ belt. “Uh, Harry-”

“Please. I need to taste you,” Harry begged.

“I’m all sweaty,” Louis whined. “I don’t care,” Harry growled, drawing down Louis’ zipper.

“Let me do this for you. Let me make you feel good.”

For a second, Harry thought Louis would say no as he’d been doing for weeks, but then Louis just nodded stiffly. “Hold on a sec.” Louis retrieved his eyeglasses from the dresser and put them back on. “I want to watch you,” he said a bit shyly, his breath thin and shallow in his chest. With his shoulder blades pressed to the wall, Louis let Harry slide his pants down, agonizingly slow, his smooth pink erection springing free to slap back against his stomach.

“Oh Louis, you’re beautiful,” Harry said with a gasp, causing Louis’ whole body to blush.

“Enough with the foreplay. Just suck me already, Styles,” Louis said in a teasing voice that was belied by the shaking of his hands. His cocky words were lost in a gasp a moment later when Harry engulfed Louis’ erection with his mouth. Harry watched Louis’ face as he bobbed up and down Louis’ length, tasting the tang of salt and Louis’ skin. Despite having put on his glasses, Louis’ eyes were squeezed shut tight, his hands clenched into fists as Harry licked and sucked every inch he had to offer.

Harry pulled off just long enough to say raggedly, “open your eyes,” and then Louis was gazing down, watching him, threading his fingers through Harry’s curls and trying hard not to buck his hips up into Harry’s wet, waiting mouth. Louis had never felt anything like it. For one, he’d never actually had a blowjob before, but it wasn’t purely the physical sensation that was new, it was the connection Louis felt when he gazed down into Harry’s green eyes. Harry was looking up at Louis with such wanton, unmasked desire. No one had ever looked at Louis like that and it did strange things to his stomach.

Harry slide a finger into mouth, alongside Louis’ dick and before Louis could sort out what was happening, Harry’s saliva slick finger was curling inside him, touching him in a place no one had ever touched. At first, it just felt awkward and strange, but it didn’t take away from the ace blowjob Harry was giving, so Louis didn’t say anything. But when a second finger joined the first, bumping headlong into Louis’ prostate, electricity shot through his whole spine and his stomach and balls contracted without warning. He’d meant to push Harry away when he orgasmed, but Louis came so suddenly and fiercely, there wasn’t any time to do anything but moan and sob his name, _Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry,_ the word changing in his mouth each time he said it, like a jaw-breaker dissolving down to different layers of flavor. Harry continued to suck Louis until it all became too tender and sensitive and then Louis’ knees were buckling and he was collapsing to the carpet as if all his bones had turned to jelly. Harry gathered Louis’ limp, sweaty form into his arms, holding him tightly while the world spun away and gazing down into his eyes with unconcealed affection.

“I want to taste-” Louis gasped and without asking for further explanation, Harry opened his mouth to Louis, passing the taste of Louis’ semen along, still sharp and vaguely metallic on his tongue.

They drew apart, Harry stroking soothing patterns into Louis’ hair. “Harry, I think you’re always wonderful,” Louis said dreamily, before burying his face shyly into Harry’s neck.

Harry kissed Louis’ hair, his voice cracking with a surge of unexpected, overwhelming emotion. “You’re not half bad yourself, Tommo.”


	3. 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis Tomlinson is a shy, virginal nerd with a serious girlfriend. Harry Styles is a reputed (though not actual) playboy with a masturbation problem. Louis Tomlinson loves books more than anything else. Then he meets Harry.

_The end of the night. We should say goodbye, but we carry on while everyone’s gone. Never felt like this before. Are we friends or are we more? As I’m walking towards the door, I’m not sure...So baby if you say you’ll want me to stay, stay for the night, I’ll change my mind._ **\- Change My Mind - One Direction**

**What You Need (3/4)**

It came out eventually, as all things were bound to when you were living in as close of quarters as they were. Everyone knew, for example, what Zayn and Perrie sounded like having sex (she shouted his name with increasing intensity and Zayn responded mostly with low groans and indecipherable grunts). Everyone ( _including_ , as it turned out, Canadian Air Transport Authority) knew that Niall had amassed quite a varied, disturbing collection of hentai porn on his laptop. Everyone also knew the frequency (and volume) of Harry’s masturbatory habits (though he fancied himself covert, he wasn’t.)

In fact, it was a small wonder that they had managed to keep it a secret for as long as they did. Harry knew the others had their suspicions, but the few times _Larry Stylinson_ was brought up (even in joking), Louis had gotten weird and defensive and Harry had gone quiet and the subject was ultimately dropped.

It was Zayn of all people that walked in on them - Louis kneeling between Harry’s legs, Harry seated on the couch, his red erection standing tall and proud as a flagpole as Louis licked him with tiny, uncertain kitten licks. (Harry hadn’t gotten around to the deep-throating lesson yet, though honestly Louis and his tongue being anywhere near _any_ part of Harry’s body was pretty enticing on its own.)

“Oi, I’m sorry-” Zayn’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, but he made no move to flee or leave and for a tense second, Harry thought he might actually ask to join them. They were all frozen in place, like pieces on a chessboard, waiting for someone to make the next move - Zayn in the doorway staring back and forth between them in shock and disbelief, Harry still seated on the couch, his saliva-slick erection now growing cold in the absence of Louis’ mouth and Louis crouched on his knees, like an animal about to flee from a hunter.

It was Harry who ultimately broke the stalemate. “Mind closing the door, mate? Bit exposed here,” is all Harry said in the end, but his heart was beating hard and fast in his head and he felt vaguely nauseous. Not because he thought Zayn would judge him (the way they had been touching each other in the cab had cleared up any fears of that) but because if it hadn’t been Zayn, it could have been _anyone_ and they really needed to start being more careful.

“‘Course. Sorry Hazz. Lou.” It was the soft _Lou_ at the end that did it, made Harry crumple forward as if someone had punched him the gut.

The door closed with a resounding click and when Harry finally managed to drag himself upright again, Louis was nowhere to be found. Harry went into the adjoining bedroom, where he found Louis curled on his side on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, slowly rocking himself. It reminded Harry of the awful, wonderful night that had started it all, the night Louis had broken up with Hannah, the night they’d had their first kiss, among other things. It seemed so long ago now. Had there ever been a time when Harry hadn’t loved him?

Harry could say with absolute confidence that he knew Louis better than anyone, but sometimes, _sometimes_ Louis retreated so deep down inside himself that not even Harry could seem to reach him. And even though Louis was only a few feet away on the bed, Harry suddenly felt as if the distance were insurmountable, oceans and mountains springing up between them, driving Harry further away.

“Lou, babe-” Harry reached out a hand, but Louis flinched away. When he turned, his eyes were wild and dark, like a startled horse’s. Harry’s throat tightened as if a fist were slowly closing around his windpipe. For some reason, he felt seconds from tears.

“He won’t say anything,” Harry said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, as far from Louis as he could stand.

Louis seemed not to notice Harry at all, seemed to be continuing a conversation he was having with himself. “It doesn’t matter. He saw us. He saw _me_.”

“So what?” Harry put his hands on Louis’ shoulders, but Louis’ shook him off.

Fire blazed in his blue eyes. “I’m not- I’m not-”

“Not _what_? Gay?” After everything they had done, Harry was surprised to find Louis still had doubts. Harry might not be buying any rainbow flags anytime soon, but he knew without a doubt who he loved, regardless of gender, and that was Louis.

“Let me finish,” Louis snapped. “I’m not like you, Harry. I actually care what the others think.”

Harry reeled back as if he’d been slapped. He _cared_. Of _course_ he cared. That’s why it hurt so much. It had bothered him when Louis denied it in front of the others, but he hadn’t said anything because he wanted Louis to come to terms with it in his own time. But why couldn’t Louis admit it even now, with just the two of them in the room alone? After everything they had shared? Was the thought of being gay, of being gay with _Harry_ , so vile to him?

“And what’ll they think?” Harry asked slowly.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know Louis. You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

“They’ll think we’re fags,” Louis said miserably, his eyes welling with tears. Harry stood up, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Louis whined.

Harry turned back at the last moment, trying hard to control the shaking of his shoulders. Louis looked so small, so vulnerable - a small island on the wide, white sea of the bed - that for a second, despite the storm brewing in his chest, Harry just wanted to run to him, to hold him. Louis had taken off his eyeglasses and his face was puffy and wet with tears. Harry was secretly glad that Louis wouldn’t be able to see his face when he said the words he said next.

“You know what the difference between us is Louis? Not that you’re straight and I’m gay. It’s that I’m actually proud to call you mine. Or at least I was until just now.” Harry stalked out, ignoring Louis’ weepy, pathetic cry of “ _Harry_!” as the door slammed shut behind him.

***

Zayn wasn’t in his room, but Harry found him slumped over the hotel bar with Niall, looking remarkably drunk considering he’d just left them. An assortment of empty tumblers crowded the bar top and Niall and Zayn’s faces were close, intimate, as they spoke in harried whispers. Both of them looked up guiltily, suspiciously silent at his approach. Harry realized with a sinking feeling that they’d been talking about him. And he and Louis. His stomach clenched and he swayed slightly on his feet, reaching out for the countertop to steady himself.

“Harry?” Niall raised an eyebrow, taking in Harry’s disheveled clothing and clouded expression. “All right?”

“No. I’m not. Zayn, I need to talk to you.”

“Be back, mate,” Zayn said to Niall before hopping down off his barstool. On second thought, he reached back and downed the rest of his drink before following Harry into the hall. Harry walked quickly and purposefully and Zayn found himself struggling to keep up with the younger lad’s long-legged strides.

They found a quiet spot by the pool, where it was dark and secluded enough to converse privately. The pool was hours past close, but they hopped the gate without much trouble, settling next to one another in one of the lounge chairs, their thighs touching. Harry watched the surveillance lights glinting darkly on the surface of the pool, biting the tender skin on the inside of his cheek until it hurt.

“Have to hand it to you, mate. Didn’t know you had it in you,” Zayn chuckled, slapping Harry on the back as he tried to lighten the mood. “I mean _Louis_! Of all people! _Louis_! I mean, sure I’ve _thought_ about it...who wouldn’t with that pretty little arse of his, but, _you_ , _you_ went out there and did it! I have to hand it to you - you’ve some major cojones, Styles-”

“Zayn, shut up,” Harry snapped.

“Huh?”

“I’m trying to tell you something important, so if you would please stop your prattling, it would make it a whole hell of a lot easier on me.”

Zayn slipped his cigarette pack from his coat pocket and worldlessly offered one to Harry, who gratefully accepted it. His hands were shaking too hard to light it so Zayn lit it for him and passed it over. Harry’s eyes closed as he inhaled the first soothing drag of nicotine.

“You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?” Zayn asked.

“Zayn, I’m in love with him.” Harry buried his face in his hands. “I’m fucking in love with him and I’ve gone and made a right mess of it.”

Zayn loped a reassuring arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Have you told him?”

“No and now I don’t think I’ll get the chance.”

***

Everyone knew by morning, although thank God Niall at least had the good sense not to take the piss. Harry wouldn’t have hesitated to punch him if that were the case; he was itching for a reason to punch _anyone_ , though mostly he was mad at himself. It was strange how different it all was from the morning following his night with Zayn - how light and easy it had been then and how dark and serious it was now. Harry was stewing and Louis was avoiding him and everyone else and Zayn had tried to make a half-hearted apology to Louis after breakfast that had resulted in Louis locking himself in his room for the next two hours. It was almost as if they had never been friends at all, like they were back to the beginning all over again, with Louis sneaking off to read a book or Skype with Hannah while the rest of them went out.

Louis had surprised them all by showing up to lunch, albeit a half an hour _after_ everyone else and sitting a table away. He spent most of that time reading the same page of Perks of Being a Wallflower and sneaking longing glances at Harry from behind the green cover.

“He looks miserable,” Liam said, shooting a surreptitious glance at Louis, who had given up on his book and was dissecting but not eating the sandwich in front of him.

“Like a kicked dog,” Zayn added, giving Harry a pout.

“Hey, I’m not the bad guy here. He called us...he called _me_ a fag.”

“You sort of are though, aren’t you?” Niall asked cheekily, which earned him a kick from Zayn under the table.

“Sorry Harry,” Niall apologized, rubbing his shin.

Liam took a slug of his beer, giving Harry a one-shouldered shrug. “D’yah ever think that maybe Louis isn’t ready to come out of the closet, even if you are? I mean, I’ve heard it’s different for everyone...”

“Hazza, just stop being a twat and go talk to him,” Zayn said, kicking the leg of Harry’s chair so that he nearly toppled over. Niall stifled a laugh.

Louis didn’t look up when Harry approached, but there was an audible hitch in his breathing as Harry’s shadow fell over him.

“Hey. Mind if I sit?” Harry asked, twisting his gray beanie in his hands.

“S’free country,” Louis grumbled, shoving half his sandwich in his mouth in one go. A very Niall-like move.

Harry dragged a seat close to Louis’, gently nudging Louis’ knee with his own. “You look like you’re having quite the love affair with that sandwich. Have you gone Facebook official yet?”

Louis rolled his eyes, chewing his sandwich with more fervor than before. “Sorry. Bad joke. I’m not really good at this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing is that?” Louis mumbled around his mouthful of food.

“Apologizing.” Harry lifted his thumb to wipe a dab of mayonnaise from the corner of Louis’ mouth and tried to ignore the way Louis flinched away and then glanced over to see if the others were watching.

Louis’ shoulders sagged. “They all know. Don’t they?”

Harry gave a limp lift of his shoulders. “Yeah. But they’re cool with it. They still like you. I mean, nothing’s changed. You’re still Louis.”

Louis snorted. “They like _you_ maybe. They never liked me. I’ve always been that nerdy stick-in-the-mud to them. Now I’m gonna be that nerdy, _gay_ stick-in-the-mud.”

“It’s not like that Louis.”

“It is _too_ like that. It’s been like that for me all my life. It’s never been easy for me to make friends or to be around people. It’s a real effort sometimes-”

“Even with me?”

Louis blushed, looking down at his lap. “No. Not with you.”

“Lou, I don’t know what you want me to say. If you don’t want to be with me, I’m not going to force you. I only want this if you do.”

“But what exactly is _this_?” Louis asked, hugging his midsection.

“It’s...it’s whatever you want it to be I guess.” Harry paused, trying to gauge Louis’ reaction. “Is it...are you ashamed of me?”

Louis’ eyes flicked up, a look of mute horror dawning on his face. “Of course not.” He reached over and stroked the inside of Harry’s wrist under the table. Harry shuddered, letting his eyes flutter shut; it was the most contact they’d had since the night before. “You’re wonderful. Perfect. I just...I haven’t sorted out how I feel about myself yet.”

“Okay, but just so you know; it was never just about the you know, the sex for me. It was about spending time with you.”

“Can I...can I take some time?”

Louis bit his lip. Harry squeezed Louis’ hand firmly. “Take however long you need. I’ll be here whenever you want to talk.”

Louis broke into a real smile for the first time that day. “Thanks.”

***

“Hey.” Louis glanced up from his place on the couch, surprised to see Zayn hovering over him. He’d expected Harry, and didn’t quite manage to hide the flash of disappointment on his face. Since lunch, Harry had been giving Louis a wide berth of space to think things over. The truth was that Louis had had quite enough of thinking. The truth was he sort of _missed_ Harry. It wasn’t that Louis didn’t enjoy his alone time; he did. He loved to read and sleep and unwind in front of the telly, but somewhere along the way he’d started to enjoy doing those things with Harry - stroking Harry’s hair absently as he read, Harry putting his giant, stinky feet in Louis’ lap as they watched TV, Harry’s cold nose butting against Louis' back as they fell asleep together. It wasn’t the same without Harry because _Louis_ wasn’t the same Louis he’d been before Harry.

“Room for one more?” Zayn asked, lifting Louis feet before he could answer and placing them in his lap. It was an intimate gesture, one that Zayn didn’t make often with Louis and he was stuck between being uncomfortable and feeling kind of flattered that Zayn had bothered.

Louis put his book down on the floor, giving a tired little yawn. “I don’t really want to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Just one thing and then I’m done.” Louis nodded, more than a little intrigued. He and Zayn didn’t exactly have conversations on the regular.

Zayn straightened the blanket over Louis’ legs, as if he were tucking him in for a bedtime story. He looked at the floor instead of Louis’ eyes, coughing to clear his throat. “I care for Harry. And I know Harry cares for you. You...you make him happier than anyone I’ve ever known. And I don’t know if it makes a difference but I think you’re good for him.”

Louis made a little high-pitched sound, halfway between a squeak and a hiccup and Zayn looked up at him in surprise. “You know, for what it’s worth...” Zayn trailed off.

“Thanks Zayn.” Louis reached out and squeezed Zayn’s knuckles.

“Anytime, mate.”

“Zayn, can I ask you something?”

“Guess that’d be all right.” Zayn swallowed hard.

“Do you...do you fancy Harry?” Zayn let out an abrupt, startled laugh.

“What Harry and I did was fun thas’all. It’s not like what he has with you. He’s not in love with me or anything.” Zayn’s hand shot to his mouth. “Oi, shouldn’t have said that.”

“Harry’s...in love with me?” Louis’ cheeks flushed.

Zayn groaned, biting his lip. “You didn’t hear it from me though, yeh?”

Louis stood suddenly, letting the blanket fall away from him. “Thanks Zayn. I gotta go.”

***

Harry was sprawled on top of the covers in the hotel room they were sharing, asleep with the remote on his chest and the TV still blaring. Louis flipped the television off and moved the remote to the table, sidling up Harry’s side. Harry’s body was warm, almost feverishly so, his curls slightly damp with sweat where they met his neck. Louis placed an exploratory kiss there and Harry’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, though his eyes remained closed.

Louis slid his hands up under Harry’s shirt, gliding over the defined muscles of his stomach and the twin swoops of his collarbone, before bending down to press a lingering kiss into the soft curve of Harry’s neck. Harry stirred, blinking slowly, leaving sleep as if he were kicking up from the bottom of a deep lake. “Lou?”

“Hi,” Louis grinned, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose.

Harry laughed, a deep throaty laugh that shook through both their tightly-pressed bodies. “Hi. What’s going on?”

“I’m ready,” Louis said, his voice gone slightly husky.

“Huh? Ready for what? To go to sleep?” Harry yawned.

“No. You and I. I don’t want to wait anymore,” Louis whimpered, grinding his hips down into Harry’s suggestively. As Louis’ erection became evident against his thigh, Harry sat up abruptly, nearly knocking heads with Louis.

“Now?” Harry asked breathily.

“Yes,” Louis whispered roughly. “ _Now_.”

Harry sat back as Louis tugged his shirt over his head and patted his curls back into place. “What’s brought all this on then? This afternoon you were more interested in your sandwich than you were me,” Harry teased, earning him a shove from Louis.

“I uh, had a talk with Zayn.”

“And now you want to have sex?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“That's the gist of it.”

“Maybe you and Zayn should have conversations more often,” Harry teased.

“Listen, do you want me or not Styles?” Louis sassed him.

Harry reached up and dragged Louis to him by the collar of his shirt. “It was never a question of me wanting you,” he said hotly against Louis’ face, before silencing him with a kiss.


	4. 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis Tomlinson is a shy, virginal nerd with a serious girlfriend. Harry Styles is a reputed (though not actual) playboy with a masturbation problem. Louis Tomlinson loves books more than anything else. Then he meets Harry.

_When the rain is blowing in your face and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace to make you feel my love.  When the evening shadows and the stars appear and there is no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years to make you feel my love.  I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong. I've known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong. -_ **Make You Feel My Love, Adele  
**

**What You Need (4/4)**

Louis whimpered into Harry’s mouth, fingernails scrabbling for purchase along Harry's skin, leaving long red furrows over Harry’s ribs. With a growl, Harry flipped Louis over onto his back, pinning his wrists to the mattress and using his teeth to tear open the top buttons of Louis’ shirt. Louis gasped, tossing his head back and arching his spine, seeking out the heat and friction of Harry’s body against his own. Denying him the contact he so desperately needed, Harry moved to the end of the bed, rucking Louis’ trousers down off his hips with unnecessary roughness.

Louis looked on with lust glittering darkly in his blue eyes as Harry’s long, thin fingers nimbly and sensually slid down his cotton underwear, exposing his skin to the cool air of the room. Goose bumps erupted over Louis’ whole body and he shivered once, _hard_ , before biting down on his lip. Once Harry had shed Louis’ clothes (almost with distaste, as if anything should have the _audacity_ to cover up something so perfect as Louis), he crawled back up the length of Louis’ body, the rough denim of his jeans grating coarsely against Louis’ bare skin.

Harry paused above Louis, his dark hair falling in a cascade, staining his pale face with shadows. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I trust you,” Louis said, his breath thin and shallow, blood pulsing hotly in the points behind his ears.

It was all the confirmation Harry needed. His warm mouth descended upon Louis’ throat, like a starving man biting into an apple. He sucked bruises into the tender skin along Louis’ collarbone, before moving down to tongue circles around Louis’ nipples. Louis’ breath hitched when Harry’s teeth clamped down on the thin skin over his hipbones, instinctively thrusting his hips up, his erection jabbing Harry in the neck.

Harry laughed, a deep satisfied rumble in the back of his throat. “Eager, are we?” he asked, giving Louis’ erection a quick tug that caused several droplets of precum to spill down over Harry’s knuckles, lubricating his grip.

“Unf,” was Louis’ incoherent reply, as he turned to bury his face shyly in the pillow beside his head. Harry skinned Louis’ foreskin back, darting his tongue out over Louis’ reddened cockhead. Louis’ trembled beneath him, crying out as Harry took his cock down in one swallow, not stopping until his lips were suctioned firmly against the base of Louis’ shaft. Harry bobbed up and down a few times, stopping only long enough to suck on one long index finger, while Louis’ cock jerked helplessly in the air. Then Harry's mouth was back, joined by a finger, stroking inside Louis, making his toes curl and his body go rigid.

“Ah, fuck, stop. I’ll never last,” Louis begged. Harry pulled his mouth away, wiping it against the back of his hand, grinning wickedly as his fingers continued to plow into Louis. Louis’ cock twitched, sending another pulse of precum streaming down his shaft.

“What’s the point in lasting?"

Louis pulled Harry close, their faces so near their features retreated into haziness. “Because I want to cum while you’re _inside_ me,” Louis whispered roughly.

"Oh," Harry said with dawning comprehension. " _Oh_."

Louis smiled lazily, like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream. “Com’mere and let’s get those trousers off, eh?”

Harry happily obliged, watching with bated breath as Louis struggled to unzip Harry’s jeans over his growing erection. By the time Harry was down to his underwear, there was a growing wet spot on the thin cotton near his fly. Louis pulled Harry’s elastic waistband down, swiping his thumb over Harry’s sensitive cockhead, causing a shiver to traverse through the younger boy.

“You have no idea how sexy you look right now,” Harry murmured, licking his lips. He reached out, running his fingers raggedly through Louis’ hair. Louis blushed, lowering his face. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, least of all being the center of the attentions of someone like _Harry_.

“Look at me,” Harry commanded, drawing Louis’ face up by his chin. Louis gazed up at Harry timidly from beneath lust-hooded lids. “You’re beautiful, Lou. You know that right?”

Louis blushed in response, burying his face into Harry’s collarbone.

“I want your first time to be special,” Harry said nervously, as he ran his hands down Louis’ back. “Tell me what I can do to make it good for you.”

“Anything. It’s special ‘cause it’s with _you_ ,” Louis said, leaning up to press his lips to Harry, their kiss soft and lingering. Harry moved closer - so close that space seemed to exist in two places simultaneously - the space outside them and the space occupied by the two of them and their bumping limbs, their hungry mouths, their clashing erections and clawing hands. The outside world fell away, as if a curtain had dropped, plunging everything into darkness, but the bright, blinding spark kindled between Harry and Louis’ bodies. It reminded Harry of building blanket forts as a kid, how special and intimate it had been to be inside, separate from everything and every _one_ else and now, here he was - _together-alone_ with _Louis_ and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’ll be right back,” Louis gasped, nearly tripping in the tangle of sheets at the foot of the bed, his erection bobbing comically as he jogged over to the couch where he’d left his messenger bag. Harry laughed, but before he had a chance to ask what Louis was doing, Louis was returning with a condom in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.

“Somebody’s ready,” Harry teased.

“I wanted to be prepared. In case anything...” Louis ducked his head shyly.

Harry pulled Louis into an affectionate head-lock and wrestled him to the mattress, kissing him deeply. They briefly warred for dominance, their arms locked in an embrace that sealed out all space between them as they rolled over one another. Louis’ thick, slightly curved erection rubbed against Harry’s weeping cock, eliciting a desperate moan from the back of Harry’s throat.

Harry slicked his fingers with lube, teasing Louis’ hole for a moment before plunging in, earning a hiss from Louis. “Is this _okay_?” Harry asked, watching Louis’ face for a sign he was in pain.

Louis responded by grinding down onto Harry’s fingers, his erection twitching against his stomach. “ _Wantyousobad_ ,” he croaked. As Harry continued to finger-fuck him, Louis poured a puddle of watery lube into his own palm, slicking Harry’s erection with it. They continued this way for several torturous minutes - Louis slowly wanking Harry and Harry probing Louis with his long digits, until Louis could stand it no longer.

“Put it in. _Please_ ,” Louis begged, guiding Harry toward his puckered entrance.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, bracing himself against Louis’ thighs. “Shall I get a condom on?”

“ _Yes_. _No_. Please just fuck me already,” Louis whined, gripping Harry by his narrow hips and pulling Harry forward so that he nearly lost his balance. With a look of intense concentration, Harry slowly eased his cockhead in, pausing for Louis to adjust to his knob before inching forward. With an impatient huff, Louis grabbed Harry’s ass, forcing him all the way in. They both gasped - Harry at how hot and tight Louis was around his dick and Louis at just how big and thick Harry actually felt _inside_ him.

Harry rested with his elbows on Louis’ haunches, panting a moment. “Just give me a sec,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, trying desperately not to cum before they even got going. Louis was grateful for the break. It didn’t hurt _per-say_ , but he did feel oddly full. The only thing Louis had to compare it to was Harry’s fingers inside him, but Harry’s fingers didn’t compare to the feeling of the hot, hard flesh of Harry’s cock inside him, like a separate living organism, with its own corresponding set of requirements and demands.

After a minute Harry got his hips moving, slowly at first and then at Louis’ urging, he sped up, gripping Louis’ furred, muscled thighs as he rutted hard against him. It was somehow both everything and nothing Harry expected. He had known it would feel good, but not _this_ good. And he had known it would be different with Louis, but he had not known it would feel like _this_ , not just being _inside_ Louis (though that was nothing short of a miracle in itself), but gazing down and seeing the trust and love in Louis’ eyes and knowing he had somehow inspired that trust and would do anything and everything to keep it. Harry had not anticipated just how safe he would feel with Louis hands gripping his biceps or how his name on Louis’ lips would sound like a secret only the two of them shared.

Louis reached down and gave his erection a tug, marveling at the sight of Harry above him and around him and inside him, _filling_ him, invading all his senses. Louis felt his orgasm drawing near, but wanting to delay it, he reached up, pulling Harry down for a kiss. Harry kissed him languidly, lazily, slowing his hips to match. Then Harry drew back, gripping Louis’ hand tightly as he pumped forward and struck Louis’ prostrate for what seemed like the hundreth time. Louis gasped and without even touching himself and without any sort of advanced warning, he was suddenly shooting all over his chest and belly and crying Harry’s name over and over like the words of a prayer. _Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry._

Harry gasped, feeling Louis’ body constrict around him and looking down at Louis’ shattered face, his dick still pumping jet after jet of cum, and it was all too much. Harry bent over at the waist, sobbing Louis’ name as he let go inside of him, rivulets of sweat running down his back and chest and Louis’ rough, bitten-down nails dragging sharply down his chest like a benediction. Harry stayed inside Louis’ a moment longer, trying to catch his breath and wrap his head around the fact that the beautiful boy lying beneath him was his.

When it seemed inevitable, Harry pulled out, collapsing back into the pillows and pulling Louis’ head down onto his still heaving chest. It took him a second, as he came down from his orgasm, to realize that the wetness on his chest wasn’t just their combined sweat, but that there were actual tears streaming down Louis’ face.

Harry lifted Louis’ chin with one finger, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

But Louis was smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m just so _happy_. I didn’t know it could feel like _this_.”

Harry laughed, pressing a kiss onto Louis’ tear-stained cheek. “I love you, Lou Tomlinson.”

For one horrifying moment, Harry’s whole body tensed up. The words had come out of his mouth so easily, so _naturally_ , but he was suddenly gripped by the terrifying notion that it was all in his own head, that what he’d thought he’d felt with Louis was just _that_ \- what _he’d_ felt with Louis, and that it bore no reflection on how Louis felt for _him_. Maybe he’d said too much, too soon.

But then Louis was grinning so widely it nearly split his face. “Yeah. I know.”

Harry acted insulted, feigning pushing Louis away, although frankly he was flooded with relief that he hadn't made the whole thing up, that he'd actually just made _love_ to Louis Tomlinson, that it had been _more_ than sex, more than what he'd had with Caroline and what Louis had had with Hannah.  “Wasn’t quite the response I was expecting," he pouted.

“I love you too, you wanker,” Louis sighed dreamily, kissing Harry, their mouths still smiling against each other’s.

“You fancy a shower?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“With _you_? I’d love nothing more.”

***

They’d managed to shower and change the sheets and order up a pot of tea from room service, but not quite dress when the door was suddenly banging open and Niall was striding in.

“Oi, it reeks of gay sex in here,” Niall said, sniffing the air. It had clearly been meant as a joke, because as his eyes settled on Louis and Harry, snuggled together under the duvet, their hair still damp and disheveled from the shower, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Not that gay sex is necessarily a _bad_ thing,” he added quickly.

Zayn and Liam were right behind Niall, carrying sacks of groceries from Tescos and when they saw what Niall had seen, they all comically ran into each other’s backs.

“Uh, sorry guys,” Liam stammered, his face flaming with embarrassment.

“We could come back-” Zayn said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes fixed on the carpet.

Undettered, Niall had already thrown himself across the bed, situating himself over Harry’s and Louis’ legs. “Sleepover time!” he grinned, kicking off his trainers. “We’ve got movies and snacks!”

“Niall, maybe these two want to be alone,” Liam said gently.

“I don’t mind if Louis doesn’t,” Harry shrugged, looking back at Louis.

“Guess that'd be all right,” Louis smiled, a bit lopsided. “ _Just_. D’ya mind giving us a minute to get some pants on?”

Liam and Zayn both blushed simultaneously, although it clearly delighted Niall, who let out a peal of startled laughter, kicking his legs up in the air. Louis and Harry gazed at each other over Niall, sharing a secret smile. Then Liam threw Niall over his shoulder and carted him out, with Zayn backing out behind them, holding his hands up in apology.

They returned a few minutes later, when Harry and Louis were safely in pyjamas - Louis wearing his glasses and Jack Wills sweats and a jumper and a knit gray beanie of Harry’s, looking positively wrecked, and Harry in a pair of flannels and a ripped band t-shirt, looking like the luckiest guy in the world. All the boys were kind enough not to bring up what they had walked into, although occasionally one of them snuck a curious glance at the two of them, nuzzling closer together than they had ever dared in the presence of the others. As they turned on the movie and opened up bags of snacks, it was as if nothing had changed between them and yet, everything _had_.

Louis rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as Liam reached around them to dig into a bag of crisps. “I’m not ready to...to tell everyone just yet,” he whispered. “Would it be okay, for now, if it’s just us five?”

“Of course it’s okay. It’s enough just to have you,” Harry said stroking Louis’ fingers where they rested on the blanket. “We can wait a while before we send a joint Christmas card,” he sniggered. Louis groaned.

“Oi, will you two pipe down,” Niall shouted around a mouth full of Jelly Babies, from his spot across Harry’s feet. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Louis and Harry looked at each other and laughed. “Love you,” Louis mouthed.

“Love you too,” Harry mouthed back. Louis shyly buried his face into Harry’s collarbone, where Harry could feel Louis smile against his skin.

Harry was well and truly in love with the shy boy from Doncaster and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Being a Pop Star may have had its perks, but at the end of the day, belonging to someone like Louis Tomlinson was so, _so_ much more rewarding and Harry wouldn’t have traded it for the world.


End file.
